


Libertatem

by r0ryy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mild Gore, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prompt Fill, Purple Hawke, Slave Fenris, Slavery, but i'll only directly tag the ones who end up being central to the story, it's mentioned for like a second in the beginning and that's all, past Danarius/Fenris noncon, pretty much all of the companions are going to make an apperance, the rating/warning/category and all that fun stuff is subject to change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0ryy/pseuds/r0ryy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Instead of meeting Fenris as a runaway who's been avoiding or killing slavers for months, Hawke & co. meet him when Danarius comes to Kirkwall on exactly the sort of business you would expect him to be on. And by meet, I mean they tear through Danarius' slaver minions and then realize they've bit off a little more than usual when they run into the lyrium-powered meat grinder that is the magisters' bodyguard. </p><p>When they kill Danarius, Fenris stops fighting. Since Hawke isn't keen on killing someone who's clearly been brainwashed or manipulated or coerced or whatnot and who isn't actively a threat anymore, and since they're also not keen on just letting him fend for himself in a shithole like Kirkwall, they decide to take Fenris in and see if there's anything they can do for him. Cue party member select screen.</p><p> </p><p>An AU in which everything is the same, but Fenris goes straight from slavery to holding right flank in Hawke's merry little band.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Libertatem

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever I first filled this prompt, I planned to end the fic here, but the story got away from me and now I'm intending to make this into a multi-chapter thing, although how long is hard to say. Writing Fenris is just really fun, and I want to explore his new dynamic with Hawke and the rest of the team. Updates will probably be slow, but I'll do my best!
> 
> Also, please send feedback! Comments, criticism, suggestions, literally anything is welcome. I'm a desperate writer in need of validation so please don't be shy with that stuff, whatever the form!
> 
> I'll be updating here on ao3 as well as the kinkmeme thread here (http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15195.html?thread=60183131#t60183131).

Fenris didn’t remember why they were here. He didn’t remember exactly where here _was_. Somewhere in the Free Marches, perhaps? The elf’s greatsword plunged into the nearest mercenary and ripped them nearly in half, blood and organs splattering against the dirty wooden floor. Yes, the Free Marches, that sounded right.  
  
The scream of another assailant caught his attention and Fenris whirled, swiftly parrying a blow from the man’s waraxe and nearly shattering the small weapon in the process. He was sure that Danarius had mentioned where they were headed at some point, at least during their journey from Tevinter. Another thrust of his sword and the mercenary fell, gurgling wetly around his own blood.  
  
But the magister had been…hungry during the long ship ride, and Fenris more often than not awoke at the foot of his master’s bed, slick between his legs and too sore to stand, but always managing it somehow, occupying his thoughts with the finer points of walking and breathing to distract himself from the constant ache. He’d barely been able to pay attention to what Danarius was saying, unless the magister was giving him a direct order, but he was well accustomed to that sort of escapism by now. It made things far more bearable, and he could be of greater use when needed.   
  
Fenris swung his sword in another arc, arms straining under the effort, and two other mercenaries fell dead at his feet.  
  
And besides, it wasn’t his place to ask questions.  
  
The elf cast his gaze warily around the seemingly-empty warehouse. It appeared that he had taken care of the last of the hired soldiers, at least for this room.  
  
“Excellent job, Fenris.” The silken murmur came from behind him and Fenris turned, attention focused solely on the magister who had appeared silently in one moonlit corner. “The rest of the guard should be able to dispose of the remaining fools. Cover the door and see that no one interferes.”  
  
“Yes master.” he replied, turning towards the room’s only entrance, letting the rare praise sink warmly into his tired bones. He would be glad enough once Danarius finished his business in the Free Marches; leaving Minrathous for longer than a week or two always proved…wearisome. When Fenris wasn’t hacking his way through the magister’s foes, he was studiously ignoring the strange looks that were always thrown his way, whether drawn by his markings, his conspicuously foreign armor, or the thick leather collar that was wrapped snugly around his throat. He always felt smaller under the intense scrutiny, and the gazes made his skin prickle with unusual embarrassment-  
  
The sound of wood splintering and groaning jolted the elf from his thoughts. Fenris gripped his greatsword tighter, pivoting restlessly in place, looking for whomever or whatever might have caused that noise. It came again, louder this time, and he registered that the sounds were coming from above him, _directly_ above him. Fenris started and looked up, just in time to watch the ceiling cave in on top of him.  
  
There was the sensation of being slammed to the ground, breath knocked from his lungs, and a crushing weight that kept him pinned to the dirty floor. The elf heard the crack of his broken leg before he felt the pain. He was stunned, winded, and disoriented, wracking his spinning head for a plausible reason as to why he’d been crushed by the warehouse’s ceiling, but then the agony came. It was white-hot and sudden, flooding his senses so blindingly that he didn’t hear the string of creative curses or notice when a majority of the weight that was baring down on his quaking body was abruptly hauled off.  
  
After a time, Fenris couldn’t be sure how long, a female voice began to filter in through the subsiding anguish. “-the little bastard I’m hired to kill aren’t you? I think I broke your meat grinder there. Sorry about that.”  
  
Fenris didn’t hear Danarius’ response, too busy groping along the floor for the hilt of his sword, trying to assess whoever this adversary was through the shimmering haze of pain and debris. He managed to clumsily haul himself to his feet, weight resting heavily on both his right leg and weapon. The only conclusion Fenris managed to reach by the time he was once again standing, however shakily, was: _big_.  
  
She was massively tall, broad shouldered, clad in heavy armor, and there was a greatsword strapped to her back that was larger than Fenris himself. Her dark hair, wound up into a haphazard ponytail, flipped briskly over one spiked shoulder when she turned to look at him.  
  
“Oh, you’re up. Good. I hate fighting just mages.”  
  
Her sword was off her back and in her hands in an instant, slashing diagonally towards Fenris, and cutting through the dim light in a thick, silver blur. He was nearly stunned by the speed at which she moved and the elf barely had time to block the strike, the force behind her blow enough to make his arms rattle.  
  
“They always stay at a distance. It’s no damn fun.”  
  
Her eyes were bright in the warehouse’s gloom, grin cutting brilliantly through the dark like a knife. Fenris had seen that same gleam before, always worn by adversaries who _loved_ a good fight, and he knew in an instant that this human was the same.  
  
Her sword came at him again, this time from below, and Fenris parried the strike, but the movement forced him to step back, weight shifting to his broken leg, and he stumbled off balance with a choked cry. The human didn’t give him a moment’s reprieve, whirling and slashing at him again and again, too fast for Fenris to do more than block her attacks and choke back screams whenever he was forced to put weight on his injured leg.  
  
The elf quickly felt sweat rolling down his neck and knew, from the exhausted ache in his muscles, that the human’s endurance would far outpace his own. It would only take one of those powerful blows to kill him and she didn’t seem to be tiring at all. If anything, the fight seemed to spur her on, each hit coming faster and harder than the one before, the sound of heavy breath and clashing metal filling the warehouse's tepid air.  
  
The human feigned to the right, then swung her sword in a low arc, catching Fenris by surprise. He managed to block it, just barely, but the momentum of her strike slammed the flat of the elf’s blade into his injured thigh and Fenris went to his knees with a shout.  
  
He knew, in the second it took to look back up at the human, at the hungry, triumphant glitter in her eyes as she raised her sword, that he’d lost. Fenris’ baser instincts screamed at him; he _couldn’t_ die, not now, not like this, his master _needed_ him, his master needed him to fight.  
  
In desperation, Fenris activated his brands, the swirling lyrium flaring into a white-hot burn. He had anticipated the familiar agony, but it did nothing to dull the pain, both of his searing flesh and the knowledge that he would be punished later for using the brands without his master’s explicit permission.  
  
The elf grit his teeth through it all, shifted his sword to his left hand, and lunged forward, right hand already phasing out of existence, ready to tear the human’s heart from her chest. He looked up, wanting to see the shock and horror oh her face, watch the lights go out in her eyes, watch her face contort in terror as she died for daring to oppose his master. But he saw nothing in the human’s brown gaze but fascination. He faltered.  
  
She sidestepped the lunge.  
  
“Maker’s balls you _glow_?”  
  
He felt one heavily-booted foot impact his injured leg, heard the dull crunch of his fractured bones grinding together, and Fenris went down hard.  
  
The elf perceived the impact of his head slamming into the floor far before the pain of it clouded his senses. When it did, he was left swimming in his own head, the red, throbbing haze drowning out Danarius’ enraged snarls and the human’s quick retorts. Fenris’ body felt heavy, weighted down beneath the agony that radiated out from his thigh and pulsed dully in every exhausted muscle. Darkness swam at the edges of his vision and Fenris thought for a moment that he might pass out like that.  
  
But slowly, like the ebbing of the sea, it began to fade, clarity returning bit by fragile bit. His first coherent though was that his master would be angry with him for nearly fainting during a battle. His second was that, if the sound of explosions and impacting metal was anything to go by, Danarius was fighting the human. Alone.  
  
He tried to drag himself up on shaking limbs, _protect him, have to protect my Master_ , but his arms kept giving out beneath him, dropping Fenris back to the floor with dull thuds. Each time he fell, the elf’s head swam a little more and he had to choke down bile from the dizzying sensation. After several unsuccessful attempts to stand, Fenris spied his greatsword, lying a few feet away where the human had paused to kick it out of his reach. He settled on crawling, inch by agonizing inch, towards the weapon; he had to nearly drag his broken leg behind him, putting any weight on the limb made his entire body spasm in pain.  
  
By the time Fenris managed to get his hands wrapped around the hilt, Danarius’ breathing had gone ragged. The elf looked up to find his master’s fighting had turned desperate, nearly sloppy. The magister was hurling fire and lightning in wild arcs, rapidly summoning shades that the human cut down with a single blow from her hulking sword. He would teleport from one side of the room to the other, but the human was fast, and the moment Danarius’ feet settled onto the ground, she was there to slash at him again, cracking the magic of his force fields with relentless blows.  
  
Fenris heaved himself to standing, even as his limbs shook and his head spun, the dim room shimmering through his vision. The elf wanted nothing more to collapse into a painful heap on the dirty floor, but it wasn’t an option. He needed to... _master_ needed him to…  
  
He heard the human shout. It was not a cry of fear, but of triumph, the sound echoing through Fenris’ senses. His eyes locked on the magister, on his magic sparking and coming down around him, on his feet as they stumbled backwards, graceless and unprotected. He watched the human grin.  
  
Then, within an instant, she had her blade buried to the hilt in his master’s gut.  
  
There was a single moment of dead silence and Fenris felt his limbs turn to lead. Then the human was moving, _heaving_ , and she threw Danarius’ body clean across the room. It hit the opposite wall with a wet splatter that drowned out what the elf thought might be his own horrified screaming.  
  
No, _no_ , this wasn’t happening, it was _not happening_. His master was strong, impervious, indomitable, he could not be bested by a nameless mercenary he _couldn’t_. _No, no, no._ Fenris repeated to himself, even as he continued to watch, helpless and immobile.  
  
But the human didn’t pause; she was at the magster’s side the next second, wrenching him up off the ground. The elf met his eyes, wide and petrified as he had never seen them, and Danarius’ lips began to shape some desperate incantation.  
  
_No_ , he thought, his master was _strong_ , his master would _win_ -  
  
And in one fluid motion, the human snapped his neck.  
  
Fenris watched the lights go out in his eyes.  
  
As soon as the human’s arms left his throat, the magister’s body slumped to the floor in a bloody heap. Fenris found himself gaping numbly at the carcass of the man who had been his owner, his _world_ , for as long as he could remember.  
  
“Damn.” The human straightened up and stared down at Danarius’ dead body, almost in surprise. “That was a easier than I expected!” There was a happy lilt to her voice and she smiled, hands on her hips, seemingly satisfied with the eviscerated corpse.  
  
Fenris could barely hear her words over the blood roaring in his ears. He was dimly aware of the human kneeling to root through Danarius’ robes, searching for anything valuable. The elf’s gaze remained locked on his master, on his empty eyes and gaping jaw, on the way he was sprawled limply on the dirty floor like a haphazardly flung doll.  
  
_No._  
  
No, no this…this shell, this _thing_ could not be the magister that he’d spent years protecting, the powerful mage who had cared for him, seen to all his needs, given him a purpose and a place to belong. Fenris squeezed his eyes shut, convinced himself that when they opened he would awake at the foot of Danarius’ bed, weary and aching, but _home_.  
  
The elf opened his eyes, but was met only with the sight of spilled intestines and his master’s favorite amulet, dangling from the human’s large hand. Fenris was distantly conscious that she was cocking her head with a confused, if not concerned gaze, mouth shaping words at him.  
  
He…he couldn’t. Fenris’ body was shaking, he thought he might vomit. This couldn’t…  
  
_No._  
  
“Master?” he called, small and pitiable, taking one trembling step towards the magister’s corpse.  
  
And then, without warning or preamble, a ball of fire slammed into his injured leg. The pain shot blindingly through his senses and Fenris crumpled.  
  
The elf lay where he’d fallen, unable to summon the will to stand or fight back or even lift his head to assess whoever this new aggressor was. Danarius was dead, he was badly injured and utterly alone in a strange country, in the presence of a human who’d killed both his master and the magister’s entire entourage, if the lack of response from Danarius' guard and contacts was any indication. The sound of people shouting rang in his ears and he knew, with a sinking acceptance, that this was the end; there was nothing left for him. With a quietly resigned sigh, Fenris shut his eyes against it all and waited for the mercenary to deliver her final blow.  
  
The human’s voice rang out through the din, but the words slid over the elf like water; shapeless, meaningless noises among other meaningless noise.  
  
“Merril, easy, he stopped fighting!”  
  
“He could still be a threat.” A new voice, laced through with the slightest tremble.  
  
“Your enthusiasm is inspiring, Daisy, but I think Hawke already did a number on him before we showed up.”  
  
“But he was still advancing! Hawke taught me that you always strike until your opponent falls, especially when they’re advancing on one of your friends.” Pride in her voice. “Which is what that elf was doing. Just now. That was lesson number three, I think.”  
  
“Alright then Merrill, here’s lesson four: try not to attack someone when they look like they’re about to start crying.”  
  
“He didn’t look…wait, I thought lesson four was that you should never leave your back unguarded, unless you’re in a bar fight in which case-”  
  
“Hey.” A soft voice, the human’s voice, closer, _too close_. Fenris flinched. “I promise I’m not going to hit you anymore. Unless you start hitting me again, of course. But I’m rather inclined to think that we’ve moved past all that now hmm?”  
  
Her words felt like wind, rushing through his ears. The other voice was still babbling on in the background. He didn’t understand…  
  
“You think you can look at me, sunshine? I know I’m not the most pleasant sight, covered in blood and whatnot, but I need you to look at me, okay?”  
  
Fenris shifted minutely, unease churning in his gut, no longer able to block out what was going on around him. _What does she want, to watch my face when she kills me?_  
  
“Hey.” Her voice was gentle. “It’s gonna be alright. I’m not gonna hurt you. Just look at me.”  
  
An order, and Fenris obeyed.  
  
She was right about the blood thing, he observed, almost offhandedly. It was smeared across the human’s face and armor, flecks of it dotting here and there along her freckled nose. Up close, he could see that she was worse for wear than he originally thought, small cuts and bruises making a splotchy sort of patchwork over the tanned skin of one cheek and up about her forehead. He was so preoccupied with the little observations that it took Fenris a moment to notice she was smiling at him, warm and gentle, the expression spreading all the way up into her brown eyes.  
  
“There we go, see! That wasn’t so bad.” The human shifted from where she was crouched next to him, the leather of her heavy armor creaking as she settled onto one knee. “Alright, now that we’re having somewhat of a proper conversation, you mind telling me your name?”  
  
_Why?_  
  
“I…it’s Fenris.” he mumbled, trying to speak around the blood congealing thickly in his mouth.  
  
“Fenris.” She rolled the name around on her tongue. “I like that. It’s nice.” Another grin. “Mine is Hawke. Garrett Hawke, but just Hawke will do.”  
  
_Hawke._ He wanted to say the name back, but the fear of somehow displeasing this human killed the word in his throat. Fenris was unsure of how she would prefer to be addressed. Perhaps _master_ would be more agreeable, but their interaction had already been so strange and he just didn’t _know_.  
  
Too late, the elf realized that he had been staring at her and quickly dropped his eyes to the ground, panic seizing in his chest. He had already overstepped by looking Hawke directly in the eyes, something that he, or any slave, would have been beaten severely for in Tevinter. The anxiety that gripped him over this offense was strong enough that he almost missed the human’s next words.  
  
“Well then, now that we’re properly aquatinted, do you think you can tell me what you were doing with the shitsack that I splattered all over the floor there?” Her question would have made his blood run cold, had her tone not remained so gentle. _She is interrogating me._ Fenris realized; most likely trying to find out if he knew anything that might prove useful. The elf was momentarily grateful that she had not yet used violence or pain to convince him to share any valuable information. It would be terribly easy, injured as he was, and the small kindness was a flutter in Fenris’ stomach.  
  
“He is…” a thick-sounding swallow. “He is my master.”  
  
“Your master.” The human’s tone darkened almost instantly and Fenris felt himself shrinking back.  
  
“Oh no, no sunshine, Fenris, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” The elf dared another glance up at her. She looked almost…concerned, one hand reaching out, as though she wanted to place a hand on his shoulder, _or throat_ , but had changed her mind at the last moment. Fenris’ gaze was rewarded with a patient smile.  
  
“See, there we go.” The human’s, no _Hawke’s_ , words did little to lessen the hard twist of anxiety in his stomach; her reactions were so strange and he didn’t _understand_ -  
  
“Hawke, you might want to be careful around that guy.” The male voice from before. Fenris couldn’t help his instinctive glance towards the source, and was met with the sight of a beardless dwarf standing along the raised level of the warehouse. There was a crossbow gripped lightly in his gloved hands, not cocked or aiming at anything just…there. A silent threat.  
  
“I think we’re going to be alright Varric.” Hawke replied, turning to acknowledge the dwarf. “We’re getting along just fine, aren’t we Fenris? And at the very least, he kind of owes me.” She twisted back to face him with a wink. “What with the whole ‘liberating you from the clutches of an evil magister’ thing.” The human was grinning, but Fenris felt the weight of her words; they sunk into his tired bones with a comforting sort of familiarity. He’d been terribly unsure of the human’s intentions, but now he understood. The elf bowed his head respectfully and lowered himself down on his forearms, prostrating himself at her feet.  
  
“Yes, master. I owe you my life and will humbly serve you until you see fit to dispose of me.”  
  
There was nothing but silence. Fenris slowly felt himself growing tense, confusion twisting along his spine, wondering if perhaps he had done something wrong or-  
  
“Yeah, that sure looks like “getting along just fine” to me.” The dwarf.  
  
The female voice from before spoke tentatively. “Umm, maybe if we just-”  
  
“No.” Hawke. _Master._ “Can you guys...maybe give me a minute?” Fenris heard the two shifting nervously, but kept his eyes trained on the human’s boots.  
  
“Uhh...look, Fenris, you don’t have to bow like that ok, just…” she trailed off and the elf’s unease nearly doubled.  
  
“W-would you prefer I do something different, master?”  
  
“No! No, don’t…Maker, don’t call me that, I’m not your master, alright.” Fenris dared a glance up, unwilling to move from his current position of subservience, and found Hawke’s face twisted with some unidentifiable emotion. He didn’t understand, this had always placated Danarius before…  
  
“I killed your master, remember? It was like two minutes ago and now he’s all,” A vague gesture towards the magister’s corpse. “disemboweled and such.”  
  
Fenris swallowed thickly, the smallest of tremors beginning to work its way through his body. _I don’t understand._ “Y-yes, he is dead, and you have gained possession of his property by rights…” he trailed off at the look in the human’s eyes and dropped his gaze back to the floor.  
  
Hawke was silent for a few moments before she spoke. “So, let me get this straight, because I killed that guy, that _magister_ , all of his “property” as you so eloquently put it, is mine now?”  
  
“I…yes.”  
  
“Which includes you.”  
  
“Yes…master.” His response nearly sounded like a question.  
  
“And now you think that you belong to me.”  
  
“Yes, master.”  
  
“Well. Shit.”  
  
“Hawke, we don’t have time for this! The city guard is going to be here any minute. You, me, and daisy need to be gone, and fast.”  
  
“I’m not going to just leave him here, Varric.”  
  
“Oh, right! Because it’s a much better idea to drag your brand new slave through the middle of Lowtown at night while he bleeds everywhere.”  
  
“Dammit Varric he’s not-” An exasperated sigh. “Alright sunshine, Fenris, look at me.”  
  
He obeyed, meeting her earnest, brown eyes with his own.  
  
“Listen, you are not my slave and I am _not_ your master. You’re free to run off and do whatever you want. If you need a job, there are plenty down by the docks and nobles are always hiring mercenaries to pull off small jobs. Second option pays better and you don’t have to smell like fish for a week. I’d go with that one.”  
  
She…she did not want him. Fenris felt the cold anxiety in his stomach twist harder. _No._ He had never been without a master before, not in any of his precious few memories. There had always been someone else holding his leash, firm orders and honeyed praise. He wasn’t sure he could survive on his own; he wasn’t sure he knew  _how_.  
  
“I-” his voice was small. “I am strong. I can fight. I can be useful to you…”  
  
“As much of a delight as I’m sure it'd be to have you around, I’m not exactly the “master” type. Well, maybe in bed, but we can discuss that later-”  
  
“Definitely not the time, Hawke!”  
  
“What I’m trying to say is: you’re _free_. Liberated. Unrestricted. Independent. Unfettered. I’m running out of synonyms. But isn’t that good news?” Her tone was impossibly, and very awkwardly, hopeful.  
  
Free.  
  
Fenris almost wanted to laugh.  
  
_I don’t think I even know what that means._  
  
“Well…alright I guess if that’s settled, we’ll just be going then.” Hawke chirped, moving to stand, and Fenris could hear the uncomfortable strain in her voice. “I guess uhh…good luck, Fenris.” And she turned to leave.  
  
_No._  
  
Raw panic overwhelmed him and Fenris unthinkingly reached out, grasping desperately at the human’s knees before she could turn away, sharp gauntlets clanging against her armor with an abrasive sort of clash as he blurted, “No!”  
  
The room was silent, save for his labored breathing.  
  
“Please, please don’t leave me! I can help you, I can fight. I-” Fenris could feel the full weight of his actions catching up with him, but he desperately soldered on. “You could sell me, if you wish. I am sure that I would be worth a fair amount of gold, even here.” He didn’t dare look up, trying to quell the panic in his voice when Hawke remained mute. “The brands in my skin are pure lyrium. You could remove them, sell them separately if you wished or-”  
  
“Hey.” Hawke’s word was barely a murmur, but Fenris snapped his jaw closed immediately. He felt more than saw her crouching back down to his level, clawed fingers slipping from her armor with a quiet scrape. There was suddenly a gentle knuckle beneath his chin and the elf found himself meeting kind, brown eyes with his own, and the naked sincerity in them stunned him enough that he did not look away.  
  
“No one’s going to be gouging lyrium from your flesh any time soon, okay.” Her voice was a warm alto, far more tender than he deserved and Fenris gave a shaky nod. Hawke was quiet for a moment more and the elf watched something change in her face, watched something go soft.  
  
“Why don’t you stick with me for a little while hmm? I’ll take you somewhere to get those wounds patched up, and we can work out the whole slavery thing when the city guard isn’t on their way to kick my ass.”  
  
“Speaking of which.” the dwarf said, pointedly.  
  
Hawke rolled her eyes but gave Fenris a small, earnest smile. “Sound good to you?”  
  
“T-thank you.” he managed to breathe, feeling impossibly grateful and completely overwhelmed by the entire situation.  
  
“Don’t worry about it.” cheerful and sincere. “Now, do you think that you can walk on your own or-”  
  
“Hawke! Now!” The dwarf, Varric, urgently this time.  
  
“Right then, no time for pleasantries, I’ll just…” And Fenris found himself abruptly scooped up in the human’s arms.  
  
“Sorry. Usually I make sure to ask before sweeping people off their feet, or knees I guess, but this is kind of a special circumstance. I promise I’ll make sure to get your okay on it next time.” By the time Hawke had finished her statement, they were already out of the warehouse and halfway down a back alley, moving at an astonishing pace for someone who was wearing heavy armor and caring a rather large, injured elf.  
  
Fenris could hear the other two close behind, and their little party didn’t stop until they were far enough away from the warehouse that he had lost track completely of where they were. The trio slowed down after that, talking amongst themselves, and possibly to him, but the exhaustion was overtaking him and Fenris felt himself drifting off, despite his attempts to shake himself awake.  
  
_She shouldn’t be carrying me like this, I should be able to stand beside her, to protect her, to serve her to-_  
  
The combined rocking motion of the human’s gait and his bone-deep exhaustion leeched the rest of the elf’s consciousness from him. The last thing Fenris thought before darkness swallowed him whole was: _She will be a good master._


End file.
